


The Slaver Job

by deprough



Series: The Mandalorian's Jobs [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Gen, Slavery, Strangers to Family, Twi'leks (Star Wars), canon compliant through ep4, not the mandalorian enslaving but mentions of slavery and dealing with a slaver culture, probably a romance, slowest of burns if so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:21:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22073914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deprough/pseuds/deprough
Summary: He just wanted to put down for fuel, minor repair, and supplies. Maybe find a bit of work and make some credits. But nothing ever seems to go to plan for the Mandalorian.Canon-compliant through S01E04, The Sanctuary, deviates after
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Original Character(s)
Series: The Mandalorian's Jobs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588885
Comments: 8
Kudos: 66





	The Slaver Job

He made them five minutes after reboarding the _Crest._ He’d been a little careless, leaving the ship open in port for the ten minute talk with the portmaster about fuel and repairs. He’d only been fifty feet away, but it was easy to second-guess after someone had infiltrated the ship.

Whoever it was, was good; his only clues had been a smudge of dirt on the floor and The Kid. The wee one had locked eyes onto the cargo bay doors and stared intently. The Mandolorian studied him; The Kid seemed curious but not afraid or alarmed. 

The bounty hunter debated for a moment but The Kid’s reaction had him curious, too. So he locked the little one in the bunk, turned on the infrared, and scanned the bay in darkness. A single humanoid life form, red-hot against the _Crest’s_ cold walls, huddled frozen in the darkest corner. He swept the room several times, pretending to search the shadows while figuring out what hid in the corner.

Small. Not short, but thin, the kind of thin that made him want to put a big meal in front of them. They’d probably be lithe if not starved, and a study of the lines of the hidden form made him think it was a female. Not human; she had an oddly shaped head that didn’t shed heat like hair. Twi’lek, maybe a Togruda with a small crest. A slight odor hung in the air, hinting at an unwashed body.

 _Probably try to kill me tonight_ , he mused to himself, feeling more tired than upset at the idea. He’d been looking over his shoulder for several weeks, and dodging hitmen and bounty hunters was getting old. At least sneaking aboard his ship and murdering him and The Kid in their sleep was more innovative than attacking on the street. 

He shut the cargo bay doors but left them unlocked. After all her efforts to elude him in the narrow confines of the _Crest_ , the least he could do was play her game. 

The Mandolorian went about his day, arranging for the minor repairs the _Crest_ required, fuel, and a job. While sometimes engrossing, being targetted for assassination didn’t pay well. The local authorities needed a criminal, a flesh trafficker, found in the local woods and returned, and he arranged to start tomorrow. Everywhere they went, The Kid earned stares, but no one asked, so Mando didn't have to tell them to mind their own business. 

Night had fallen as he’d finished, and he returned ready to deal with the assassin. She’d been out while he’d been gone; he noted that a small knife was missing from the armory, along with some food. Which did call into question why an assassin was stealing food from the target _before_ killing them. _Perhaps my hunter wants a challenge._ The minor theft could be to set him on edge as his subconscious registered something was different without his conscious self noticing what. He laid on the bed mulling over the possibilities, with The Kid sleeping curled against him. He didn’t sleep, dozing in full armor and jerking to alertness at every little noise.

 _Or they’re not an assassin at all._ He placed that thought at the top of the list after the night passed without an attack, aside from The Kid’s nighttime mullings. Honestly, it was safer sleeping in the armor if he was sharing with The Kid, since the little womp rat had claws and slept restlessly. It was worth feeling stiff to save his skin from the scratches he found on the bedding and walls after the little one woke up.

He secured the _Crest_ , settled The Kid into a sling on his back, and went after his mark. Using a map, he walked up into the forest, headed for where the guy’s camp was supposed to be. The camp was there, but the guy clearly hadn’t been for a few days. Sighing and glad he’d made arrangements to be gone longer than a night, he started tracking the guy. He probably should leave the wee one behind, but knew by now if he did, he’d look back after two hours of walking and see The Kid trotting after him.

That took two days, slipping through the trees and across streams, picking out the tiny clues of travel and following them. Tedious and exacting, Mando forced his focus to hold to the hunt. When worries of what might be happening on the _Crest_ pushed their way forward, he ignored them. He could do nothing about that, there was only the here and now. At least he knew The Kid was safe, nestled on his back.

The next morning, he found Grint’s campsite. The fugitive bent over a fire, making breakfast, and Mando slipped up on him. Tall and heavy, Grint had the kind of build that inspired second thoughts, even with the shiner that someone else had already given him. The food distracted him, and Grint didn’t see the bounty hunter until Mando stood opposite him. With a scream, the fugitive threw his hot rodent-on-a-stick at Mando and lunged for his backpack. 

Grint’s hand thrust into the bag a second before Mando stomped on it, and the flesh-peddler screamed again, this time in pain rather than fear. The two men locked gazes as Mando pulled his blaster and pointed it at his nose. Lacing ice into his voice, he said, “I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold.”

“I have money. I work for the Hutts,” Grint babbled, eyes dropping to the blaster pointed at him. 

“The authorities busted you already,” Mando sighed, already bored and irritated with this prisoner. This definitely wasn’t his favorite part of bounty hunting. “Your credits and the people you trafficked are already liberated.”

Grint snorted. “The Barsom locals are in the Hutt pockets, too. The slaves went right back to the Hutts.”

Mando clenched his jaw, disgust at slavers rolling through him. They were the scum of the galaxy, preying on the weakest people. “Get up,” he snarled, and The Kid shifted against his back. “Hands together.”

Grint swallowed, and Mando scowled. It was over, and had been since Mando had been set on his trail, but Grint didn’t seem to understand that yet. Sure enough, when the bounty hunter stepped forward with the restraints, Grint threw a punch at him. Mando lazily blocked it and hit him, hard enough to daze him. While the man swooned and slowly recovered, Mando clicked the restraints into place. 

They marched back to town without more trouble; most of Grint’s fight had been removed by his broken nose and the restraints. He recovered close to the end of the trek and asked, “What’s with the kid?”

Mando said nothing, feeling his jaw clench at the judgment in the scum’s tone. 

“So do you always take kids into a fight? Like, is that your thing, endangering minors?” Grint asked, spitting blood after a racking cough. “Or is that a Mandalorian thing?”

“The only thing you need to worry about is whether being shot in the face is a Mandalorian thing,” Mando replied coldly. 

Ten minutes later, Grint said, “You know, the only reason they want me is because I let one of them go.” He paused but Mando didn’t take the bait. The Kid cooed as if interested, and Grint took it as an invitation, continuing, “She just looked at me with big golden eyes, and whispered, ‘Please.’ Just a soft ‘please’, and I caved. Opened the damned door for her and looked the other way while she ran.” He snorted, then spat again. “No good deed, am I right?”

“Shut up.” Mando scowled at the inside of his helmet. The flesh-peddler sounded sincere; if he was, he was being targeted for doing the right thing. That hit a little close to home. Finally, curiosity won, and Mando asked, “Who gave you the black eye?”

“Oh,” Grint said, reaching up to rest his fingers on the bruised flesh, “one of the guys who found out I let her go.”

 _Lie._ The casual warble in his voice, the quick glance back to see if he was buying it -- despite the mask, confirming that the lie was being accepted was instinctual. Mando retorted, “Or maybe you applied a condition to her release and she didn’t like it.”

Grint glared and Mando’s reservations about turning him in faded. Their stories may have been similar, but he wasn’t using The Kid for personal pleasure. _Once a slaver, always a slaver._

By nightfall he had his credits and Grint had a new, permanent home. The official Mando turned him over to called out again as Mando started to leave. “Want another one?”

“What’s the job?” he asked.

“Twi’lek female. She’s part of the slavers,” the official said, smiling through his lie. He held up a datapad with the image of a scared-looking Twi’lek. Mando frowned as he took in her blue skin and large, golden eyes. The man added, “She would lure other Twi’leks in and let the slavers take them.”

“No, I don’t need more work.” Mando told his own lie before ducking out the door. 

The Kid whimpered softly, his first sound since Grint’s lie. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty suspect,” he agreed, picking up his pace a little toward the _Crest_. He paused only to buy three weeks of rations on the way. After loading them -- and noting that his stowaway had gotten hungry again -- he paid for his docking, repairs, and fuel.

As he was counting out the credits, the portmaster casually said, “If you’re looking to thumb your nose or whatever you have under that bucket at the authorities, you need to leave planet, soon.”

Mando looked at him sharply. “You’ve seen something,” he said, hoping to prompt the bulky human without giving him anything else.

“I’ve seen servants of the Hutts around,” the portmaster said, rubbing grease-covered hands together. “I’ve seen people that aren’t allowed out of the prison, people who don’t look like criminals. I’ve been on your ship, too, and if you don’t do what the locals want, you’d better leave.”

“Thank you for the repairs and fuel.” Mondo nodded to him and received one in turn. Turning, he boarded his ship and put The Kid in the bunk. As the little one screeched in protest, he went down to the cargo bay. His stowaway was there, still huddled in a corner and trying to hide in the shadows. 

“We need to talk.” His voice echoed through the bay and he saw her shiver on the infrared. Despite his opening, she didn’t respond. “You’re not supposed to be here, and if you refuse to talk, I’ll drag you to the officials.”

At that, she moved, slowly stepping forward. When the lights fell on her features, he repressed an irritated sigh. She was a Twi’lek, with familiar blue skin and yellow eyes; she had the same frightened look on her face that she did on the officials’ image. She wore a dancer’s outfit, barely enough to preserve her modesty, and she sank gracefully to her knees at his feet. The subservience in movements, the assumption that she belonged there, turned his stomach. “Basic bad,” she murmured softly.

“What?” He tilted his head and guessed. “You mean you don’t speak Basic very well?” Isolating slaves by refusing to teach them Basic was a common Hutt tactic. When she hesitantly nodded, he asked, “Huttese?”

“Yes,” she said, then said something in that language.

“I don’t speak it,” he said, sure she wouldn’t know Mando’a but sure he could find a translator. “Did Grint let you out?” He mimed a cell opening with his hands. The woman nodded even as she shrank away from him. No doubt she now expected him to demand the same payment as Grint. “Are you a slave?”

She nodded once, her chin coming up. “Was. Now free.” Her golden eyes glared at his helmet, ready for him to refute it. The fire in her gaze belied her bowed body, and he knew this wasn’t her first attempt to escape. She had the look on her face that his trainer had called _buruk_ \-- “Danger”.

He should turn her over. Slavery was legal here. They’d told him that they wanted Grint for trafficking, but it was clear he’d crossed the officials here and that was the reason for the bounty. So was he going to cross the locals, too? “Stay here,” he ordered and locked her into the bay again.

Mando mulled over the idea, weighing it in his mind as he checked the ship for takeoff. It’d be the easiest money he’d ever make, just grab her and march her down to the jail. She’d fight him but she had no chance. 

He despised slavery, and he’d never listened to the Imperial propaganda that some species weren’t sentient. He’d seen how cunning and smart Twi’leks could be, first hand. This wasn’t a fight he could pick right now, though. He had The Kid. He needed to not make waves. Sorgon had taught him that he needed to keep his head down, for The Kid’s sake. And he needed the credits.

Three thuds on his hull cut into his thoughts. “Hello in there!” and unfamiliar voice called, and Mando hastily headed for the hatch. Six men waited for him, dressed in the local uniforms of law enforcement. One of them stood on the ramp to the hatch, the blaster he’d been using to knock raised in his hand. When he saw Mando, he holstered the blaster and gave a friendly smile. Extending a datapad with an image, he said, “We’re seeking an escaped fugitive.” 

**B** ehind the officers, the portmaster watched them from the door of his shop. Mando wondered if he’d rat him out as he glanced down at the pad. It was the Twi’lek, of course. “Doesn’t look too dangerous. What’d she do?” Mando tried to put off the moment he’d have to choose.

“She stole some property,” the officer replied smoothly. Mando didn’t detect a lie from him, but the man might interpret a slave escaping as theft of their very self. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen her?”

“I haven’t left my ship aside from the bounty, and there’s nothing amiss here,” Mando said, silently cursing himself out. He shouldn't get involved; this could only bring trouble. Behind the officers, the portmaster melted back into his shop.

“She’s a wily one, sneaking about. So you’ll understand if we insist on a quick search?” The officer smiled, but behind him, his five goons drew themselves upright. 

“She’s not here,” Mando said more forcefully, “and I don’t allow people on my ship.”

The officer tapped something on his pad and held it out again. “This is a warrant that allows me to board and investigate all ships in port. I do not require your consent, but I’d like it.”

It left him with no options, and Mando waved them onboard. As he turned, he spotted the open bunk and froze. He’d locked The Kid in there, so where was he? He scanned the area as the officers crowded in behind him. “See? She’s not here,” he said, waving from the open bunk to the empty cockpit.

“What about below?” the officer doing all the talking asked, peering down the ladder. 

“Secured cargo bay.” Mando’s tone didn’t invite further inquiry, but that didn’t stop the officer from starting down. The bounty hunter followed closely, aware that all of the goons were coming behind him. The sense of inevitability grew when he saw the cargo bay doors were open. Did she do that? Or did The Kid pull one of his amazing and irritating tricks?

The officer pushed open the door, and Mando prayed that the woman was back in the shadows again. That would have been too easy.

She sat in the middle of the bay, The Kid laying in her lap. Both were laughing as The Kid grabbed at her lekku and she dangled it just out of his reach. She was still laughing when she looked up at them. The smile morphed into horror but she reacted immediately, grabbing The Kid close and twisting so that her body protected his.

_Shab._

The second he’d seen the child, innocently playing in the center of danger, he’d pulled his blaster. He’d always been a fast draw, but seeing The Kid in mortal danger gave him new speed. He’d shot one before the thug had cleared his holster, and a second as he was still trying to bring up his gun. 

Blaster fire died on his armor as he crowded toward two of them, pinning them against the wall and fouling any shots they might aim at the Twi’lek. With his grappler, he shot the ranking officer, who stood furthest from him, and yanked him backwards into the fourth guy still standing.

He felt someone punch him in the side, a solid hit that bypassed armor and left him grunting. The other meleer punched him in the head, which would have worked out better if Mando didn’t have a Beskar helm, and they had had an armored glove.

Light flared over his armor again, then the head officer jerked backwards as Mando’s cable looped over his neck and pulled sharply away from the fight. The Twi’lek had joined the battle, albeit poorly. Her enthusiasm far overwhelmed her fighting skills, and the officer twisted away from her and tossed off the cable onto his mate. While he did that, Mando headbutted the competent brawler and rammed his elbow into the idiot’s side. 

Two on one, and those were great odds. Another shot put down the guy still tangled in the cable, and the head officer decked the Twi’lek woman as Mando lined up the final shot on his head. One pull on the trigger and it was over.

He surveyed the damage with irritation. He’d committed himself, he reflected with a scowl. The Kid appeared at the open cargo bay door, cooing softly at all the bodies on the floor.

The Twi’lek groaned, rubbing her face until she spotted The Kid. Then she murmured softly to the wee one as she scooped him up, running her hands over him, looking for wounds. 

The urge to tell her to get off the ship faded as he watched her coddle The Kid. “Bring him up,” he ordered with a wave, heading up the cockpit. She stumbled along behind, awkward and one-armed in her trailing dancer’s dress. 

He closed the hatch and got them into the air. A short hop put them at a remote location on the planet, where he took The Kid from her. “Stay in here,” he said firmly, locking the tiny monster in the bunk. 

Together, the two adults hauled the bodies out of the ship and dumped them in the woods. She had some lean muscle, but none of it was built for hauling bodies, so Mando did most of the heavy lifting with her assistance. No doubt the officers would be missed, but by that time, the three of them should be long gone. Still, he didn’t breathe easily until he was in lightspace. He turned in his chair to find her holding The Kid, staring wide-eyed at the lights streaming past them.

“What’s your name?” he asked after giving her a moment.

She shook her head, struggling for words. “Forgotten, only known name are given. What you call?”

“I’m not interested in owning you,” he told her flatly. 

“No, I ask for name,” she said, heat creeping into her voice. “I free, with you help. Help with name. Please.”

Mando looked down at The Kid, who was once again trying to grab at her lekku. “Parjii,” he said. “It means ‘victor’ in my language. Until you remember your own name.”

“ _Par-jee_ .” She tested it. “You _Firith_?”

“People call me Mando,” he said stiffly, wondering what she’d just called him. “I have some clothes left by an old bounty in the back, and I’ll get you settled on the next safe planet we find, okay?”

She nodded quickly. “ _Ka,_ I help. Bee-bee.” She kissed the top of The Kid’s head in an unabashed display of delight, her delicate lekku still dancing just out of reach of his claws.

Why did he get the feeling that it wouldn’t be so easy? 

**Author's Note:**

> I've not completed anything, fanfic or original, in a long time, so I'm glad to see that my brain is capable still. Please let me know what you thought of my fic; I love both kudos and comments. 
> 
> I plan to have other stories in this series with my original character and this iteration of our favorite Mandalorian. 
> 
> I apologize for any mistakes; I finished and edited this while dealing with bronchitis.


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